It spits out memories like
bullet rounds at unexpected
times, short bursts of power
that leave me momentarily
maimed & gasping & completely
unprepared for the fallout.
It takes me back to a dark,
dank closet with a locked door,
to a room bathed in twilight
and ice that still feels like
my fault,
to a dusty country road where
I turned back when I might have
escaped.
My brain is like an AK-47 but
isn’t that what makes us human?
Taking a bullet to the gut now &
then, absorbing the pain but not
allowing it to kill us.
Charlotte Hamrick 
oh excellent closure…and so tue ont he human condition as well…taking one in the gut and keeping on…and memories def can do that as well…and if we are lucky we dont get lost in our memories…
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Excellent. The tortured memory is sometimes our worst enemy. Great, powerful imagery.
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You know, you meet people who have experienced an lived through so many horrific things and still able to carry on to become caring people. Then there are those who are overcome by the assault. ‘AK-47’s style reminds me of a friend, I always tell her she writes with sledge hammer -brutally honest.but beautifully thought out.
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Yeowch. Powerful poem .k.
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